MNU Regulations
by Anceylee Star
Summary: Short stories on the lives of the Prawns in District 9, and the rules they have to follow, mostly through the eyes of Christopher. Chapter 2: Absence from work.
1. Use of Name

**MNU Regulation: English Names.**

**Act 4, Sec 2: Conduct**

**4.2.1: Use of Name**

**Non-Humans are required to use their MNU-issued English Names at all times.**

The Alien later known as Christopher was born on the mothership, a while before it stalled and landed over Johannesburg, South Africa, on a planet called Earth. It was quite early on in his life he understood the concepts of hunger and poverty. As a hatchling, the world within the spaceship was a bit brighter while in space. Vast cavernous hallways, self-contained, yet filled with a million others like him- just bigger.

His sire, the one who had not laid his egg, had raised Christopher. His mother had decided not to be the one to raise him, though he did see her quite often. As a hermaphroditic species, there was no difference between any of them sexually, aside from a chosen identity or based upon who did what in the reproductive cycle. But, at a young age, many took on a pronoun gender, often after the one who raised the youngling.

Food supplies ran out soon after he was born. In the end, Christopher was rather lucky: those born after him often did not make it to adulthood from starvation.

Christopher's shell-color was inherited from his mother: his father was a tall, proud Poleepkwa, with a shell of absolute black, mottled with small white spots on his joints. Lack of food had unfortunately made his shell a bit loose on his frame as he selflessly went without to provide for his son.

It wasn't a horrible existence: A little smelly and a bit short on food. But the lights were still working, and the ship moved lazily through space, searching for a new home again. Christopher wasn't quite sure yet why they had left their home planet: but he never saw it- that didn't mean his did not miss it, though.

Then, one night… The power turned off.

Christopher saw it and heard it: the small buzz of lights was suddenly whining, gave a loud hiss, and fizzled out. Suddenly the crowded halls were filled with the sounds of surprised and horrified chirps and sharp barks. He had been walking with his father. As soon as they were plunged into darkness, Christopher froze in place. He was so small still that he made it to the lowest joint of his father's leg. Blinded, he scrabbled, trying to find the hard leg of his father. When he heard familiar clicking patterns, two arms scooped up his tiny body, holding him close to a warm shell.

That was the first of several months of darkness… and very little food. Christopher knew he must have been an absolute nuisance during this time. He did not understand back then that there was no food. He'd warble in hunger and go into small tantrums until his energy ran out. His father must've had incredible patience… And his sire grew skinnier; his plates loosened to the point Christopher sometimes feared they would fall off. And as for himself, his growth stunted for a while, remaining at roughly the same height as where he should have gained a couple of claw-spans in growth.

His father was still a great source of intelligence, luckily. The darkness went by with stories of brave Poleepkwas who survived the Ju-kril-nye marches and broke down the wall of oppression. Of fiction written by some of the greatest authors known to their kind. But with the lack of food or energy, the ship began to go into greater disrepair. The smell was heavy from lack of working hygiene facilities that stop working altogether. Even the water was tainted now: their filtration systems for recycling water had died down, also. Only a few small LEDs worked, along with the command centers that kept the air recycling going, even then, the system was weakening.

Next… came the humans. There was a great panic one day, as the mothership's walls were punctured, and little beams of light followed, carried by creatures wearing bright, plastic suits. The Poleepkwas recoiled in fear, the sudden light just as blinding as the sudden darkness.

It took a while… Understanding the fleshy little creatures. They had their skeletons on the inside- how strange! They were shorter, a little squatter, varying from pink to brown in their soft shell coloring. They had come in small crafts and forced their way in to discover the malnourished Poleepkwas onboard.

The ship's machinery gave out and fully ceased to work that day.

They began the mass moving. They sent up the largest hovering crafts they could, and brought Christopher's kind down onto the surface of this new, strange planet. The surface of it was hot, rather dry. The humans had great architecture, and managed to live in such an arid condition, even with their soft shells. As unexpected as their new visitors were, they set up temporary locations while they proceeded to help the Poleepkwas.

Christopher was so happy to experience the taste of food again. They had boxes and boxes of it, handing them out to every non-human. Under the shade of a great, white, plastic tent, he sat in his father's lap, munching on whatever he could get in his mouth. His father was satisfied to eat, too, even with the foreign food-types they'd never experienced before. They'd eventually regain the weight they both lost, and Christopher's height would also become normal in adulthood.

These humans- as they called themselves when the language barriers were starting to be broken down little by little; were a very plentiful species, living across all over their planet in various environments. Despite being physically weaker, no armor plating, no claws, and absolutely ugly, they were every articulate, very adapting.

Days of shifting between tents, between food, medical treatment (both Christopher and his father were given a full check-over, and then more food.), and sleep, little else seemed to be done… aside from getting used to the straight, flat face of the humans. Christopher found himself too curious to not get near. His was still rather small, but regaining a bit of height, as he stared up at the humans. Not as big as his father, but interesting to look at nonetheless. For the most part, at this time, they just stared back.

Months passed, and the tents disappeared, replaced with builders who went to work setting up small homes, crammed together, made of wood and some metal. The little shacks were meant as temporary set-up, and would easily be torn down; the materials reused eventually, once the Poleepkwas left…

More months passed, and the youngling was starting to get into his first molting stages, growing so fast his shell could not keep up. It was an uncomfortable experience as suddenly he was at his father's hip, shedding crinkled, dry scaly layers. He'd continue to molt for the next few years, the time between molts growing faster for a while then slowing down again once he reached adulthood.

English, the common language here, was rather simplistic, and though it was a struggle at first, there were lessons being offered for it as finally language barriers were being broken down. At the time, Christopher fully assumed the humans were all also learning their own language, at least how to understand it and maybe write it, as the Poleepkwas definitely were.

Multi-National United, as they learned, were the ones who had set up the emergency camps. They would also learn that MNU gained rights to the enforcement and regulations of the Poleepkwas. It was a subject at first largely ignored, while the non-humans found themselves adjusting slowly to this new world. Months had passed, and the mothership was hanging empty overhead. It would not work anymore. It was shared that the fuel-source for their ship had given out, and that it was a substance unknown to the humans, impossible to reproduce on this planet.

The Poleepkwas would become the foreign inhabitants of Earth now. They would have to stay.

One day, late in the evening, MNU officers made rounds, door to door, throughout the Poleepkwa settlement, soon named District 9, and were issuing English Names.

"With your stay on Earth, for the ease of communication, MNU has issued that all Non-humans will be given identification tags, and a new name." A brown-skinned human told them, matter-of-factly, loudly, as they stood in the doorway.

The youngling stood behind his father, clinging to his upper leg.

"-Really? Why can't we keep our names?-" His father returned with a sharp cluck, trying to remain curious.

"For ease of communication, as we said." The human sternly replied, summoning the other human to his side, which was carrying all sorts of strange equipment: a clipboard, a messenger bag filled with metal tags.

"-Oh…-" His father chirped weakly.

"-I like my _current_ name.-" the youngling spoke up.

"You'll like this new name, too." The one carrying equipment said.

"Your English Name will be Thomas Johnson." The first human held out a tag on a simple chain, handing it to his father, and pulled out a second tag, "And you, kid, your name will be Christopher Johnson. You will both be required to use your English Name at all times, in the presence of humans."

Christopher took the tag on the chain, rolling it between his claw-fingers, observing the strange object before obediently putting it over his neck. The Humans left shortly after, going to the next little shack over.

He would miss his old name.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hey ya'll. I return to the world of through a District 9 fan-fiction! YAY!

This story is mostly meant to be a settings study, along with perhaps a character study of Christopher and his life in District 9. I really enjoyed the film, but overall, I was enthralled with the amount of detail put into the movie's background. I'm also creating a whole fictional background behind Christopher- and don't worry, current plot-holes in this fic will be filled in time! I plan another chapter based on Act 4, Sec. 4, which will explain tons more (that is all the hint you get!). The reason for Christopher being so young here is because of the fact he does have a very young son in the film, 28 years after landing. He surely can't be too old to have a son in 2009. So, around the age of 28-29 human years sounds a lot more reasonable, and he'll experience the changes in alien-human climate as he ages.

And the rules and regulations I'll be using to write these stories are from the actual MNU website. I also decided that in this chapter, the name given to the aliens, the Poleepkwas, was more formal than non-humans or prawns, as both names were given to them post-landing, and are truly derogatory in nature.


	2. Absence from Work

**ACT 2, SECT 3: EMPLOYMENT**

**2.3.3 - ABSENCE FROM WORK **

**Unauthorized absence from work will not be tolerated. **

Just over two years since the Poleepkwas had become the new resident of Johannesburg, Christopher was still considered too young to work, standing at about less than five feet (versus the full-grown seven feet), a bit more than half his father's height. But the food that the humans had provided didn't last forever, and if the aliens were to stay, arrangements were to be made.

The Poleepkwas understood the concept of a work-based society: you work, you get paid, you get fed, and you continue to work. A cycle that was usually understood to be beneficial to society.

MNU realized they had a new workforce. Poleepkwas realized they had to survive here.

Thomas Johnson went to work at an engineering plant. In the 80's, Aliens could find better gainful employment, but it was still hard, long labor. It paid decently, enough to pay for food. This was also before the full restaurant bans and confinement to District 9, before the slumlord's entry into their lives.

Christopher, though, was not left alone when his father went to work. Thomas left him with a friend, one he trusted well enough to watch his offspring, in a shack just a few down in the row, at the very end, somehow removed from the rest. Even now, they did not mind the shacks, they were still rather clean, even without plumbing or electricity, it was easy enough to survive, as Poleepkwas had work to do, and were content.

His father's friend, a very old Poleepkwa, was a stringy, short male. His shell was probably once a dark tan color, but was graying, a few small plates, in fact, missing from him, falling off occasionally from just pure age. His eyes were beginning to change color, from a valiant red to a misty pink, his vision was growing blurry and it became difficult for him to see very far. He was too old to work in any heavy labor, and in return for his child-watching services, Thomas paid him in food.

The old one was called Andrew. Christopher forgot his last name. Both, though, made an odd-looking appearance when put side by side, as both had extremely-disheveled looking shells, one from the grey coloring and missing plates, the other from shedding layers, covered in long, white flakes over his green shell.

Andrew was a smart, old alien, though. Very smart. His shack was filled with little bits of technology, some salvaged, some foreign to Christopher. Motherboards covered the walls; stripped wires followed the beams of the weak roof. Yet the dirt over the floor of his shack was very loose, and there was a large square plank of wood in the corner. Andrew warned him not to play near it, as it covered a stink-pit. (Christopher wasn't ready to test the validity of the statement. Stink pits were notorious from tales his father shared with him. It wasn't until later he'd realize that the phenomenon was not found on Earth, and that the so-called pit never once smelled foul.)

With little else to do, they talked. One day, mid-morning, while Thomas was at work, Andrew and Christopher both sat outside in the warm heat, yet under the shade of the shack's side, sitting against the wall.

":: You were born on the ship, so you've never seen our home planet, have you? ::" Andrew asked.

":: No. Haven't seen home. Only here. ::" Christopher replied, ":: Why do you ask? ::"

":: Did your father ever tell you about it? ::"

":: Yes! The planet has seven moons. ::"

":: That is right, youngling!::" Andrew said, rubbing the top of Christopher's head with his hand, a kind, playful ruffle until the youngling chirped and shooed away the elder's claws.

":: It's a shame you haven't seen it. It's really a great home… ::" the old Poleepkwa rumbled.

Christopher tilted his head, ":: Why did we leave? ::"

Andrew's antennae perked up on the top of his head, than fell again, lower than before, ":: Some things are very complicated, Christopher. Very complicated… Maybe when you are older, I'll tell you more about it.::"

":: I don't think we'll ever be able to go back, will we? ::" the youngling weakly warbled out.

Andrew looked to Christopher, still a child, still not ready to know.

" :: We'll see about that. ::"

* * *

The Evening hours came and went. Just as the sun was beginning to go down, Christopher began to grow anxious waiting for his father. He stared out of the window of Andrew's small home, watching down the makeshift street, Andrew meandered around, his old shell crackled when he turned too quickly, as he worked with the little portions of technology he had garnered, twisting wires and sorting chips. There was little light, save for a small lamp salvaged from somewhere set on the table.

Though tired and wishing to sleep, Christopher sat bleary-eyed at the window panes, waiting. Andrew had been showing him the pieces of computers he had put together throughout the day. The panels on the computers were dark, though. The systems were incomplete, but they'd put them together eventually. It was enthralling, the level of work that the old Poleepkwa put into the pieces of plastic and metal.

Christopher saw few Poleepkwas in the dark, and always they turned off, eventually. But finally, one dark, tall figure walked steadily towards their old shack.

":: Father's home, Andrew! ::" Christopher chirruped, heading toward the door of the shack, he opened it hurriedly, and burst outside, running toward the dark-shelled Poleepkwa.

Thomas looked very tired, but he had bee gone for so many hours, it was hard to blame him. Regardless, Thomas's faceplate crinkled in an obvious happy expression, and leaned down as Christopher came up to embrace him for a moment.

":: Let's head back to Andrew's for a while. I want to talk to him. ::" Thomas replied, letting got of his son to lead him back to the shack.

":: What took you so long? ::" Christopher asked as they both trekked back to where Andrew was waiting.

":: Things went on at work. I had to stay late. Sorry about that. ::"

":: Oh well. ::" The youngling dismissed it.

As they returned to the shack, Andrew let them back in. Thomas had hauled a bag of food with him. Raw meat chops of decent quality, bottles of water, and three cans of cat food. Cat food was a substance that was almost accidentally introduced to the Poleepkwas, as a few accidentally purchased some, and then proceeded to realize it was a very delicious substance. Word spread quickly about it, and soon all of them loved cat food- it was cheap and tasty.

Both of the older Poleepkwas sat down to talk at the table, and they all proceeded to eat. As there was no third chair, the youngling didn't mind sitting on an empty crate at the other end of the shack (which was about 9 feet away, no real distance at all.).

":: I can't believe that. ::" Christopher heard Andrew click away.

":: Well, they've already taken 4 rand out of my hourly pay, after working there for half a year; I don't make much to begin with. I don't get why they continue to make cuts now. ::" Thomas replied, managing to unscrew the cap off the water bottle, and guzzled down half of it.

":: But making you stay all those extra hours? ::"

":: They claimed they had a special shipment going. ::"

":: Did they pay you for all that time? ::"

":: Just regular hourly rates. I can't stay at work so long, it's so tiring. And the overseers are getting frustrated with us. We can't help it if we don't know how to use the human machinery yet! We can't grip things the same way they can. ::"

":: Well… ::" Andrew reiterated, "":: Calm down for now. And get some sleep back at your own home. It looks like you need it. ::"

":: What about the fluid collecting? ::"

":: It can wait. A lot of other did bring down a lot of equipment that the humans don't know about yet. We'll find it. ::"

":: … Alright. Sleep well, Andrew. ::" Thomas wearily replied.

Christopher's father stood, and called him over. As they left the small shack, Andrew waved them goodbye. For now, it was time to go home.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

So it be known; ":: Poleepkwa Speech ::". Sorry it changed, but this seems to work better for me.

Also, I love the reviews so far. You guys are all wonderful! I hope you guys all like my foreshadowing here. More was promised, and more shall be written. Currently, I'm writing in a mostly chronological order, though I might deviate from this as I get more ideas. I'll make sure to let you be aware if there are any time-line deviations.

And as to the discussion of the alien reproduction: My fan-interpretation of the Poleepkwa reproduction system may not be fully correct (it's based upon what I've seen so far in both the movie and the websites), but I believe it works best. They can reproduce by themselves, without outside help or a partner, or with each other, as a way to diversify their gene pool.

Also, I'm not quite sure if Christopher's daughter, Shelly, will be a part of my stories. She was mentioned once in the MNU Spreads Lies blog, but not in the film. It's mildly confusing as to why that change occurred. So, she may or may not be a part of this. But Oliver definitely will (because he just such a little adorable thing!)


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